


Move

by PinetreeVillain



Series: Not a Vampire, a Gladiator [1]
Category: Battleborn (Video Game)
Genre: Butt Grabbing, Dancing, M/M, No Smut, Public Display of Affection, Self-Doubt, Self-Hatred, Traditional Dance, are you sure you can handle it, but it's hot, ceremonial dance, sorta - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-24
Updated: 2016-10-24
Packaged: 2018-08-24 12:51:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8372926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PinetreeVillain/pseuds/PinetreeVillain
Summary: Jennerit tradition calls for a live performance of traditional dance in front of royalty in order to gain popularity and approval. Sometimes to be raised to a higher class. Rath is terrified and he's not even the one on the dancefloor...Not yet, anyway.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Not beta read. 
> 
> I....
> 
> *SOBBING* THERE'S NOTHING IN THE BATTLEBORN TAG SO I TRIED TO MAKE UP FOR IT DON'T WORRY I HAVE MORE

When he danced, he moved like he did in the Pit; with grace and deadly precision.

Although he differed entirely from the typical Jennerit blood and body, he moved like any od them would, but better. Like an artist painting with foreign tools but producing the same image on the same canvas with thrice as much skill and class. 

Caldarius moved so smoothly along the court room floor that even the royal advisors were awestruck, silently observing and analyzing the gladiator’s foot work. He moved in sync with the music, hips rolling with his shoulders, arms held specifically, head turning and staying put when the bass called for it. 

So many had come to see, to witness a rare instance of lowborn performing before the Empress and her company. It was an honor for the Kamessian, and an honor for the civilians (filthy rich more like) to do it alongside her. 

Empress Lenore, ever stoic, sat at her throne, head tilted with regality and poise, but eyes full of thought and intrigue. To her right, Lothar Rendain lounged as an equal, one fist held to his lips as he followed the Kamessian slave move along the floor with his eyes. Standing close to his right, expression even more unreadable than her employer, Deande took more interest in the floor than Caldarius. 

To Lenore’s left, Rath stood guard like a vicious and still hound, aware of absolutely everything in the room but paid acute attention to the Pit fighter on the floor. He was almost entranced by the beauty of the movement, lips parted slightly as he watched. 

As far as Jennerit tradition went, this ceremony was the most engaging he’d ever seen. Rath supposed he was due some credit. After all… Caldarius didn’t just _know_ this dance. Caldarius spent his entire life living in the slums of the Jennerit Empire as a slave, the lowest cast imaginable. Heritage wise, there was no way in Hell Caldarius would know this dance on his own. That is why they both thought up a lie just days before this event. 

“Just tell them an old woman taught you,” Rath has daid, his hands on Caldarius’s brest plate, “and that you never got her name, just that she used to be a ranking instructor. It’s vague enough to be believable.” Caldarius grabbed his wrist, catching his attention. 

“What if they don’t believe it?” His grip tightened. 

“They will,” Rath promised. 

Rath actually had no idea, he’d never had to lie to his commanding officers before, even if he wasn’t doing it directly. There was no guarantee Caldarius would even be asked a question like that, but it was better to be safe than horribly, terrifyingly sorry. 

So he watched with baited breathe when the song ended and Caldarius finished. The room erupted in applause, assaulting Rath’s senses before he could manage to withdraw them. His vision swam with the movement of the audience, struggling to make out Caldarius’s bowing form that remained bent at the hip to await Empress Lenore’s approval.

She waited several moments, allowing the applause to carry. Then Lenore stood, silencing the crowd. Rath reflexively scanned the room in search of any possible dangers to his highness, and was satisfied to find none. 

“Kamessian ‘Caldarius’,” Lenore began, voice carrying across the room with power and authority. At his name, Caldarius rose. “I am impressed with your performance. There are none so many like it.” 

Rath’s entire body relaxed and then tensed again when Lenore continued.

“But it is not enough, unfortunately. Your performance lacked many elements required to reach the proper criteria.” Lenore’s tone was final. Rath’s entire body struggled not to shake, forcing himself to contain the mental breakdown starting.

But Rendain decidedly differently. 

“You’re Highness, please. His performance was flawless.” Rath couldn’t help but hate how utterly condescending Rendain sounded. “There _must_ be some way we can make an exception?” 

Rath immediately thought, dear God no, please. Caldarius unwittingly looked hopeful. Rath hoped Lenore wasn’t in one of her charitable moods. If Caldarius was disqualified he wouldn’t be moved to any upgraded habitation unit but instead remain as he was. Rath would likely never see him again if he was disqualified but at least that way he was out of dangerous waters. It was selfish and dumb, but God-

“I suppose an exception would be appropriate,” Lenore spoke. “If Caldarius could find a partner.”

Every single nerve caught fire, sweat dripping from his helmet and down his forehead. His fists were clenched so tight they shook at his back. 

Fuck, this was the one thing they had both worried about. 

Rath had so strongly wanted to teach Caldarius the solo dance so it would be so perfect it stole the show. Caldarius had insisted he be taught the duet, just in case. So it was practiced… but not perfected. They’d done it together in private, like every meeting. When the corridors and streets were dead, not a soul awake, not a single guard wiser to Rath’s risky sneaking. It was one of the few times they could have their hands on each other without a worry. Rath had shown Caldarius what part of his partner’s back to hold in order to keep a firm grip but not to offend them at the same time (Rath could not count on his fingers how many times he had to remove Caldarius’s hand from his ass). It took time to get him to stop gripping his hand so tight. Caldarius was a fast learner, but he could never stick the finish. The dip. His feet were often to close together or too far apart, resulting in an embarrassing fall. Humorous the first time, painful every other (Caldarius was not lightly built). 

The surprise on Caldarius was not obvious, only Rath could see it in his body language. A quick glance to his right and Rath found even Deande was paying attention now. Rath thought, this honestly couldn’t get any worse – and then Rendain opened his mouth again.

“You’re Highness, if I may?”

“Of course.”

“I propose that our esteemed Pit fighter choose to dance with anyone in this room he wishes.” The answering buzz sounded like an explosion in Rath’s ears. 

Shit, shit, shit-

The younger members of the audience trilled excitedly, leaned forward eagerly in their seats. Most noticeably at the very front of some of the rows, closest to the floor, a small lady in pink gripped the railing dividing the gladiator from the people. She was such an outlandish shade of pink that Caldarius’s head rotated instinctively to acknowledge her. At the same moment the woman nodded hopefully at Caldarius, Rath’s arm decided to jerk in an embarrassing spasm of muscle he had no control of. The whole royal company looked at his uncharacteristic show of poor self-control, watching expressionlessly as he tried to regain his composure. But Solus decided he needed to suffer, and Rath’s movements were jerky and unprofessional. Sweat soaked his collar and glistened on his cheek bones and he tried to look at something that didn’t have eyes. 

The entire room was silent when Caldarius spoke.

“First Guardian Rath,” Caldarius said. 

Holy shit-fucking-ass-slapping-bitch-cussing FUCK.

Caldarius bent ever so slightly at the waist, holding a hand out towards him.

“Would you do me the honor?”

He could say no.

In fact, he _should_ have said no. He should have politely declined, stay where he was, watch and let that nice woman in pink dance with someone as empowering as Caldarius. 

But Empress Lenore was looking at him expectantly, eager to watch her loyal and trusted guardian (liar, disrespecting) dance with a beloved universal icon. What a pair, she must think. Both lethal and skilled in their own rights. It was innocent, believable, flattering, but Rath was boiling in his own skin, screaming his thoughts deaf and hoarse, angry at Caldarius – but how could he be angry at him, he was frightened, and Rath was the only person in the whole of the room that Caldarius knew – would know. As far as the public was concerned, Rath, as head of security, was often in close quarters with the Empire’s most favored gladiator. Caldarius’s proposal could be seen as a form of passive aggression, the effects of an obvious rivalry between the criminal and the officer. That was fine.

Play the charade.

Instead of answering, Rath licked his lips and began to unbuckle his belts. He pulled the broadsword off his back and leaned it against the wall behind him, doing the same with his twin blades. He suddenly felt lighter, but naked. He stood unarmed beside his Empress, making eye contact with the gladiator below him. 

Then he turned and walked down the steps. It was still quiet, the whole room completely enraptured by the turn of events as the Keeper of the Blade descended with the same authority he did everything.

His shoes echoed when he hit the marble floor. His reflection followed him across the floor until he was in front of the Kamessian.

Rath held out his own hand for Caldarius to grab and pull him closer. His grip on Caldarius’s hand was extremely tight and his heart almost stopped when a hand touched the small of his back. Caldarius dropped his hand and used the other one to pull Rath bodily against him. 

Caldarius held his gaze, so many words and thoughts in his eyes. 

Then the music began.

They moved like a mechanical clock, one body moving forward made the other move back. They’d done this several times before, but this time they were moving with each other, no one leading, no one being lead. Their bodies brushed when they turned, noses always inches apart. At some point Rath closed his eyes in order to ignore all the others. 

It was almost lewd. Their hips rocking and chests brushing. Caldarius’s hand drifted lower, gripping the mound of his ass obscenely. Nearly to the end, their skin was glistening with sweat, chests pumping air in and out of their bodies, hearts beating against each other. 

Electric warmth pulsed through them both. Caldarius kept a firm hand on Rath’s lower back, feeling the muscles ripple in his back as Rath arched. In all ways, Caldarius’s hands were always on him; holding both hips, sliding a hand along his arm, breathing gently against his cheeks, warm breathe on his neck.

No matter what light it was cast in, it was still erotic and enticing to such an extent that it wasn’t explicitly obvious. Their bodies moved together with instinct born from knowing the other intimately. 

The end came sooner than either of them wanted. Caldarius’s arm secured around Rath’s waist as his foot moved forward, urging Rath to lean back. Rath’s arm wrapped around Caldarius’s shoulders, every muscle in his body tensed for a fall he was afraid of, but lifted his leg for his partner to slide his hand under his thigh. One foot on the ground, Rath put his weight on Caldarius, trusting him with his weight. 

They leaned back with the bar slide, thighs touching, chests heaving, but bodies unmoving as Caldarius dipped Rath back too bar, the Blade Keeper arching his back, the ridges of his helmet brushing the floor. 

Caldarius’s arm shook tense along Rath’s back, and for one moment Rath thought they were going to fall. Then the bar dropped and the music stopped. 

There was a moment of silence and then it was gone, the same applause for Caldarius but louder.

“Verod,” Caldarius’s voice sprung his eyes open when he spoke his name. His voice was incredibly soft. “I’m stuck.” 

“What?”

“My leg. It’s stuck. I’ll fall.”

Rath glanced down.

“Drop my leg. Gently.”

Caldarius lowered his leg to the marble floor so Rath could support himself completely. Rath pushed Caldarius’s bigger body upright as discreetly and gracefully as possible. 

He cast a look over his shoulder, right where he knew the Empress sat. His eyes found her clapping, expression impressed, the ghost of a smile on her face, and Rath was torn between relief and devastation. 

The audience cheered for a liar and a gladiator with more hatred for their Empire than any other soul in the universe; a gladiator that managed to utterly ensnare the Empress’ first guard, the oldest Keeper of the Blades. Caldarius didn’t even do anything and Rath was so hopelessly infatuated, he’d go as far as to say he was in love with him. Finding out the feeling was mutual was certainly no help at all. 

Rath’s eyes slid over to Rendain. The enormous Jennerit smiled, expression full of hatred and something even more sinister as he clapped with everyone else.

Nothing in Verod Rath’s life had ever left him so shaken.


End file.
